


Shorter

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blindness, M/M, Vignette, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 09:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21318025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis gives Gladio a haircut.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	Shorter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Ignis leaves the door open behind him, because he already knows that Gladiolus will follow him inside. Gladiolus does, the footsteps pausing only to swing the door shut, then the faint click of the lock—Gladiolus’ hitched breath and him kicking out of his shoes. Ignis looks over on pure instinct, something that’s never really died out, even though he can’t see the handsome man that’s followed him home. He can tell that Gladiolus intends to stay the night, but then he hears the light switch, and the foggy darkness before him becomes a fraction brighter. 

“Before you retire...” Gladiolus rumbles, “I was hoping you could do me a favour.” His voice is as deep as always, but a little scratchier—maybe hoarse from screaming, or maybe he hasn’t been eating right. Sometimes Ignis does worry about both Gladiolus and Prompto going on without him. But there’re just not enough of them to handle all the daemons. It only makes sense to divide and conquer. Ignis is always immensely grateful when their paths do cross.

Ignis answers easily, “Anything.” Because he knows that Gladiolus would do anything for him.

The footsteps start up again. Gladiolus diverts over to the left, and something small lifts off the table. When Ignis sits down on the bed, the mattress dips, letting him know that Gladiolus has joined him. Cool plastic is nudged up against his fingers. Gladiolus asks, “Could you give my hair a trim?”

Ignis almost laughs. But the scissors Gladiolus gives him make it seem like it’s not a joke. He wryly suggests, “Perhaps you should find a barber that isn’t blind.”

Gladiolus doesn’t even hesitate. He quips back, a hint of a whine in his thick voice, “You’re the only one who knows how I like it.”

“Prompto...”

“He’s visiting Hammerhead; I haven’t seen him in a month. You’re right here. And I trust you.”

He shouldn’t. For the most part, Ignis’ injuries haven’t stopped him, though they’ve changed almost every aspect of his life. He still slays daemons regularly, but those are much bigger targets, and he works alone, far away from civilization, with no risk of hurting his friends. Gladiolus presses in a quiet voice, “Please, Iggy. I’d like you to do it.”

Ignis’ chest constricts. His mind tells him to say no, but his heart has met its weakness. He swallows and nods. The bed shifts again, and when Ignis reaches out, he can feel the broad expanse of Gladiolus’ back. The hand not holding the scissors creeps up, feeling along Gladiolus’ large throat and the mass of matted hair spilling down it. It would’ve been better if he’d washed and brushed it, but Ignis knows that none of them have time for that. He doesn’t make Gladiolus do it now. They need to get this done and get their rest, because tomorrow will be another full day of just _survival_.

Ignis turns properly to Gladiolus. He sidles up to Gladiolus’ backside, knees bracketing Gladiolus’ legs, and he finger-combs down what he can. He tries to get a sense of what he’s working with just by his searching fingers, and Gladiolus doesn’t protest to being felt so thoroughly. He never has. It’s a long moment before Ignis makes the first cut. He leaves the back as it is, just trimming the sides. 

He works painfully slowly. He double-checks everything, trying to keep his pinky against the shell of Gladiolus’ ear to remind him where it is. On the other side, he’s even slower, because he needs to crosscheck to make sure it’s even in both places. Gladiolus is a good patient who doesn’t squirm. For much too long, the only sounds in the little cabin are the scissors drawing closed and the crickets humming outside. Eventually, Ignis has done all that he dares. If he had a mirror, he would give it to Gladiolus, but he doesn’t. So he just sits back and asks, “How does it feel?”

The bed creaks. He thinks Gladiolus must have turned around, because his breathing seems louder. His hand closes around Ignis’, large and calloused but familiar. 

Lips brush Ignis’, and he’s told, “Thanks.”

He hands Gladiolus the scissors. He needs them safely put away. He’ll brush the fallen hairs up later and definitely change his blankets. In the meantime, he waits for Gladiolus to come back into his arms, and Ignis gets to run his fingers through his handiwork while he’s given a proper kiss.


End file.
